Australia: Wicked Mistresses. Robyn Grady
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she’d ever wanted, she wanted him to kiss her now. Intensely.
Completely.
“I want to make love to you,” he said, and that thumb travelled down the dent of her back. He kneaded the dip at the base of her spine as his teeth nipped and tugged her lower lip. “I want to make love to you like I’ve never wanted to make love to anyone before.”
The gravelled timbre of those words pulled a final trigger. Mouthwatering hunger flooded her centre, and her body reflexively bowed towards his. But the nerves in her throat were convulsing so badly she couldn’t trust herself to speak. So she combed her fingers over the sandpaper of his jaw and let her eyes and her trembling want speak for her.
He turned his head slightly to kiss her palm, then, cupping her bottom, scooped her in while his lips slowly circled over hers. When the thick ridge of his erection ground against her belly, creamy warmth dampened her inside thighs.
“I want all of you,” he told her, and then his mouth claimed hers and the velvet heat of his tongue pushed deep inside.
He kissed her for heady, blistering moments, breaking off briefly to murmur again, “I want to feel all of you, taste all of you.” His fingers curved around the back of her thigh, between her legs. “Every inch and all night.”
Turned inside out, she shook with maddening need. If he wanted her—wanted her all night—she wanted him more.
As they slipped further down the bed he systematically released each button of her shirt. When the last was undone, and she was quivering from head to foot, the backs of his fingers brushed up the curls at the apex of her thighs before drifting higher to trace over her belly.
His eyes found hers, and as his gaze glowed across he wound fabric around two fingers and slid one half of her shirt fully open. His head cocked as he examined the swell of her breast in the firelight, then he rolled her on her back and drove down both sides of the shirt, until the sleeves hung halfway down her arms. His gaze burned over her breasts, then ran a deliberate line of fire all the way down. When, as if more than satisfied, he raised his chin, her lips parted to take in more air.
Where would he kiss her next? The sensitive sides of her waist? The smouldering tips of her breasts? Or would his mouth caress the intimate folds that ached for so much of his touch? Every inch of her begged for the caress of his mouth, the skilled flick and curl of his tongue.
His palm traced up her side and found her breast. The pad of his thumb circled the areola before he gently pinched the tip. She writhed against the sheets and her hand automatically reached to hold his. His hand folded hers back at the same time as his mouth came down, tasting and then laving her nipple, as if it were dipped in thick honey.
Her breathing ragged, she held his head and slipped her good leg around the back of his thigh. His teeth clamped her nipple, and as he drew slowly back she arced with him until he released her to move off the bed.
He unzipped, denim fell, and her eyes rounded. She was more than ready for him; her body was a hopscotch of lit firecrackers waiting to explode. But the sight of his heavy rigid shaft dried her mouth. Everything about Gabriel was larger than life.
Joining her, he eased her up slightly in order to peel the fabric completely from her arms. He tossed the shirt, then lay beside her. In the dancing shadows he searched her eyes. A lazy finger trailed down the side of her ribs, over her hip, and drew a leisurely circle around her navel before his hot palm flattened against her belly. She bit her lip and shut her eyes as his touch delved and slipped between her thighs. When his fingers rode back up and stroked her with just the right pressure, to create just the right burn, she focused inward, concentrating on the rising tide.
With her mind filled with bright darting lights, his mouth covered hers—not gently this time; his tongue probed so thoroughly she wondered if he needed more from her than she could give. But to know the unbridled depth of his desire felt intoxicating. Felt wickedly, wonderfully right.
Her fingers combed up the back of his head, flexing through his hair before sculpting down the sides of his face so she could lock his kiss to hers. She wanted to sear these emotions in her mind … the feel of his jaw working with hers … his magnificent chest grazing her breasts.
She was perched on the teetering brink of release when the kiss ended, a second too soon. He took her wrist, kissing the inside before he moved to position himself above her. Holding her eyes with his, he eased in the tip of his erection, and reflexively her muscles clenched to draw more of him inside.
He began to move, filling her, caressing her. Surrendering to sensation, she fanned her palms over his shoulders as her head rocked back, driving into the pillow. The intensity left perspiration on her brow … left her brilliantly, blissfully out of her mind.
Her nails dug in as she craned up to kiss his chest, so steamy and strong, and all hers for the night.
I knew it would be like this, she thought. This was more than two bodies joining … this was so much more than just sex.
He nipped her chin, thrust again, and hit a spot so high and deep the jolt and thrill tore a sob from her chest. The tremors building in the base of her belly quickened as her throat ached and moisture filled the corners of her eyes. The intensity of pleasure was too much to contain.
She held the hair either side of his temples and, teetering on the edge, thought again, Are you real?
He answered her by taking her lips, and when the stroke of his kiss melded seamlessly with the rhythm of his hips the ticking time bomb at her centre compressed and shone, supernova bright.
She began to fold in on herself. With all the world fading away his body braced above hers and the muscles in his big shoulders bunched. When his head craned back, and he bared his teeth at the sky, she felt him shudder and empty his energy inside of her.
Her own tremors rose higher … soaring, spiking.
Peaking.
The instant a thousand waves crashed in at once he groaned, and drank his name from her lips.
CHAPTER SIX
ONCE was only the beginning.
They made love again, and a third time, and as the rain eased and the yellow fingers of dawn reached through that single window pane Nina snuggled back into the incomparable warmth of her lover.
Gabriel sat at the head of the bed, his back against the rest, his powerful arms coiled around her waist. She sat between his legs, her head slanted against his chest, her arms wrapped around his. The previous hours had raced by as if they’d only been minutes.
Tomorrow was almost here.
His chin brushed over her crown and she felt him harden against the small of her back. Teasing, she wriggled against him. “Aren’t you sick of me yet?”
“Nope.” His expert mouth found the sweep of her neck. Goosebumps erupted down her right side as his teeth danced over the still wanting sweep of skin. He whispered at her ear, “Stay with me.”
She froze, then blinked several times. Had she heard right?
“What do you mean, stay?”
He hummed at her temple. “Here. With me.”
What a crazy, wonderful idea, but … “Gabriel, I can’t.”
“Sure you can.” He urged her face around and kissed her thoroughly. Her lips felt swollen from his all-night attention, but she only melted again now. Kissing, in all its forms, was his absolute forte.
The kiss broke softly. With a growl in his throat, he circled the tip of her nose with his.
“Stay.”
She fisted her hand against his chest. Oh, God, how she wanted to. “It’s not that easy.”
The light in his gaze dimmed, and for the first time she saw something else in his eyes … something hard and close to unforgiving.